


To Prove Yourself

by petroltogo



Series: War is for Children [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All The Gryffindor Friendships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Year Three, Angst and Humor, BAMF Dean, BAMF Everyone Really (But Those Four Are The Most Noticeable Ones In This Installment), BAMF Harry, BAMF Seamus, Bamf Ron, Canon-Typical Negligence And Child Endangerment, Canon-typical Lack of Competent Adults, Canon-typical bullying, Dark Golden Trio, Don't copy to another site, Features: Dean vs. Paranoia, Features: Ron vs. the Gryffindor House System, Features: Seamus vs. Dementors, Gen, Gryffindor Friendships, Gryffindor House Politics, Gryffindors For The Win, Gryffindors Make Questionable Life Choices, Harry Is The Dark Lord's Equal, King of Gryffindor, Moral Ambiguity, Playing with tropes, Political Gryffindors, Protective Gryffindors, Protective Harry, Unreliable Narrator, What else is new, canon-typical child abuse, limited pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: In which dethroning a king doesn’t magically lead to a stable, prospering system, Hogwarts is contaminated by dementors and Harry Potter needs to decide what kind of leader he wants to be.Because handing a bunch of ostracized children great powers over their former tormentors may be one way to teach them something about great responsibilities, but it’s certainly not the best, safest or healthiest option — and there’s no telling what kind of lessons they’ll learn from it.Hogwarts beware, the rule of the Dark Lord’s equal is about to begin!
Relationships: All Second Year Gryffindors Really, Harry Potter & Dean Thomas, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & Gryffindor House, Harry Potter & Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter & Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Series: War is for Children [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1259006
Comments: 31
Kudos: 594
Collections: Wonderful_Worldbuilding_Fics





	To Prove Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> _Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power._  
>  — Abraham Lincoln

_Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence._

— Leonardo da Vinci

"And don’t you forget to write me, young man!" Seamus’ Ma reminded him for perhaps the seventeenth time that morning. Seamus would’ve been rolling his eyes in exaggerated annoyance if he was paying any attention to his mother’s fretting at all.

As it was, he was too busy scanning the crowd on the overfilled platform for a familiar — and dearly missed besides — face. Seamus hadn’t seen hide or hair from Harry during the summer months, and while that wasn’t any different from last year, back then there hadn’t been an _Azkaban escapee_ running around causing havoc.

"Now," his Ma grabbed a hold of his shoulders, forcing Seamus to meet her stern gaze. "You be good this year and behave yourself, Seamus. I don’t want to receive another letter from Professor McGonagall about your misconduct until at least Halloween or there will be consequences. Understood?"

Seamus nodded with a weak smile, forcefully keeping down the complaint that furiously clawed at the back of his throat. If it was _misconduct_ to defend your personal belongings against willful sabotage, then the adults could shove their good behavior up each others’ arses for all Seamus cared. Sure, that bloody first year had to be taken to the infirmary and McGonagall had been chalk-white with fury. But none of the first years, no matter how cheeky, had dared to look at them wrong afterwards — which had been the point and very much worth every detention Seamus had served for _being a bully_.

[The first time Walters had ruined his essays, the professors hadn’t even removed points. Because Walters had been a first year? Because she’d been a girl? Seamus didn’t know and he honestly didn’t care. All that mattered was that the adults couldn’t be trusted to handle the matter — business as usual — and when he’d caught her messing with Harry’s luggage, Seamus hadn’t cared about proper proceedings and appropriate punishments. He’d cared about making sure the stupid bint would never dare to touch any of their things ever again.

McGonagall and Dumbledore and his Ma could harp all they wanted — Walters turned the other way every time she caught sight of Seamus now.

 _Mission accomplished_.]

So—

"Yes, mam." Seamus joked half-heartedly. There was no point in rehashing old fights, was there?

For a moment, he could’ve sworn his mother’s expression crumbled. Then she pulled him into a hug, warm and too tight, and Seamus didn’t much care what anyone thought, he hugged her back.

"Take care of yourself. Pay attention to your studies. And don’t forget to have fun," Ma told him firmly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I’ll see you in December."

Seamus swallowed. "I’ll miss you."

His Ma smiled, tense features softening. "I’ll miss you too. Go now, sweetheart. And don’t forget to write!"

Seamus waved until he lost sight of his mother in the crowd. His throat felt oddly dry, but he shrugged the feeling off and finally turned towards the closest compartment. He had a couple of wayward friends to find.

*

Twenty minutes later found Seamus entering his friends’ compartment. The sound of the door opening had Dean whirl around as though someone had shot a stinging hex at his butt, wand pointed steadily straight at Seamus’ left eye.

That was new. Dean had always been fairly laid back — though _doesn’t give enough of a fuck to bother_ was usually a more fitting description. The whole Heir of Slytherin mess hadn’t done him any favors of course — all of them were quick to hand out tripping jinxes by the second week of November — but usually the jumpy part was left to Harry and Neville.

"Hiyah Dean. I take it you had a relaxing holiday?"

Hermione, whose face was half hidden behind a thick textbook titled _The Paradoxes of Time Tavel: Accidents, Misuse, Experimentations and Legalities from the 1500s to Today_ , tried to cover her snort with a cough and failed miserably. Dean didn’t so much as grin. His dark eyes were fixated on Seamus’ face, taking in every twitch in his expression. Seamus shuffled under the intense stare that made him feel uncomfortably exposed.

"Just wonderful." Dean’s dry tone could’ve given Snape a run for his money. "Do you have my quills?"

Seamus blinked, momentarily confused by the abrupt question. "You mean sugar quills? I thought you didn’t like them."

Perversely, those words made Dean relax, which finally clued Seamus in. "Did you just test me?"

"Don’t take it personally." Hermione finally set her book aside and stepped around Dean’s suddenly much less imposing form to pull Seamus in a brief hug. "He’s done that to me as well. I think Sirius Black has all of us a little on the edge."

Dean didn’t comment on that and neither did he apologize, but he reached out to squeeze Seamus’ forearm, which was almost the same thing.

"Don’t worry about it." Seamus sunk into the seat next to Hermione’s precious book with an easy shrug. "It’s probably not the worst idea to be more careful. I mean, how likely is it that we’re the only Hogwarts’ students who can brew Polyjuice?"

The others stilled at the causal reminder — one of their earlier attempts to meet the requirements for the first King’s challenge, back before Hermione had to capitulate because although Harry was definitely a capable and powerful wizard, a talented brewer he was _not_ — of how they had sneaked into the Slytherin common room. Then Hermione threw herself back into her seat with a groan, while Dean started to mutter what sounded like a mixture of curses and the few defensive hexes they’d learned under his breath.

"You’ve done it now," Hermione complained. "I swear, Dean spent a month in close proximity to Harry and now he’s completely bonkers! He’s gonna have me research food identifying charms and illusion dispelling wards before we even make it to the welcoming feast!"

"Hermione… you’d be researching those anyways. And love every second of it," Seamus pointed out with a smirk that hopefully covered his surprise at the news that Dean had spent part of the summer with Harry.

As far as he knew, Harry had to stay with his muggle relatives. Of course, Harry didn’t have a kind word to say about said relatives — and neither had any of them. Seamus hadn’t asked — didn’t know what good it would do and how to even go about something like that — but he’d seen the ratty clothes, noticed the lack of letters and presents. And, as Malfoy liked to tauntingly remind them all, Harry never went home over the breaks.

Still, Harry hadn’t even asked if he could stay over for a few days — which Seamus would’ve been thrilled by, though now that he considered it, his Ma might have forbidden it — and that hurt more than Seamus expected. Though the odd postcard he’d gotten during the second week of August did make a lot more sense now.

"Where is Harry anyway?"

"Sleeping." Dean slowly sat down as well, though he was still eying the compartment door warily. "We’ve been alternating shifts, what with the situation."

"The situation?"

If anything, Dean’s scowl deepened. "Black. Blevins. Gryffindor. Take your pick."

Seamus stretched out his legs in front of him, artfully ignoring Hermione’s glare when he accidentally kicked her shin. Blevins? Who the— oh, right. The ex-king. Seamus had sort of assumed that problem had been solved, but Blevins was still at Hogwarts, a seventh year if he remembered that right. And although a heirship couldn’t be abolished the same way one could take away a king’s crown, that could still spell all sorts of trouble for them. If Blevins was the kind to take getting bested by a bunch of scrawny second years personally.

 _Oh dear_.

To be honest, Seamus had been hoping for a quiet year. The last two had been exciting enough, even if you ignored the plots of certain Dark Lords unhappy with their retirement status. Then again, one of his best friends was Harry Potter. Quiet wasn’t a word Seamus associated with his friend.

[Unless he didn’t want to get caught and was sneaking into places he shouldn’t know exist, obviously.]

"What about Gryffindor?" Seamus asked instead.

If Blevins was out for revenge, they’d know soon enough and would have to deal with it then. Gryffindor as a whole, however, shouldn’t be a cause for concern any longer. That was what the coup at the end of their second year had been all about, hadn’t it? Harry had returned from the fabled Chamber of Secrets with not just a rescued Ginny Weasley but the sword of _Godric Gryffindor_. In his usual flash of hot-headed brilliance, Harry had used the priceless heirloom to cement his position as Gryffindor’s heir in the house hierarchy — and push the 'Arthur King' Wanya Blevins from his throne in one single swipe. Harry hadn’t just defeated the king and taken his crown — an action that would leave his own reign vulnerable to similar challenges — no. He’d declared himself Godric’s direct heir and leader of the house by right of birth not conquest. And it had worked _beautifully_.

This was, after all, the Wizarding World — where blood trumped merit every single time.

[It was incredibly satisfying to be on the right side of that prejudice for the first time.]

"We’ll need to decide how we want to lead the house," Hermione answered immediately. "There’s so many issues we didn’t clear up last year. Do we keep the titles of King and Knights? The Round Table? What are our official house rules? How do we handle challenges and disobedience? Which parts of the daily life fall under our authority and which parts are none of our business?"

From the way she listed each item with increasing passion, Seamus had no doubt that Hermione had a very detailed list hidden somewhere in her mountain of personal research notes that discussed each point, complete with potential solutions and a pro and con evaluation of each option. If Harry ever wanted to take over the world, Hermione would be the one to make it happen.

[That thought probably shouldn’t make Seamus smile, but really. He could barely wait.]

"Not to mention," Dean interrupted before Hermione could get lost on a tangent of a properly scheduled organization system, "that we don’t know how most of the upper years stood to the Arthur King. We don’t know how welcome we’ll be. We’ll need to figure out whom to watch out for— beyond Blevins’ knights. They’re the obvious choice, but Blevins took the crown as a forth year. He had to have plenty of support from the other students to get away with that. We need to be prepared for backlash from his friends, supporters, even just the ones who profited the most from his rule."

"There’ll be opportunists too," Hermione assured him, perhaps recognizing Seamus’ rising panic at the overwhelming realization of everything they would have to face upon their return to Hogwarts. House politics, really. Give him Malfoy’s snotty insults any day. "People who disliked the former king or suffered under him. Fans of the Boy Who Lived. People who respect the traditions and want to make the most of the changes. They’re all waiting for our move now. Waiting for what Harry will do. He needs to start with the strongest, most convincing position we can possibly achieve to get all the neutral parties on his side before Blevins has time to turn them into additional problems."

"Well damn." Seamus exhaled. Stared out into the hallway, where a straggler group of fourth year Gryffindors took an unexpectedly long time to pass by their compartment. "It’s gonna be a busy year, isn’t it?"

Hermione laughed softly. Dean flicked a suspicious glance towards the door.

"The busiest."

*

Two hours later, Hermione was a hundred pages deep into her book and occasionally made notes in her incredibly tiny but still just about readable handwriting. Meanwhile, Seamus recounted his more memorable holiday experiences to Dean, who limited his responses to one or two syllables, but was listening attentively, if still somewhat on edge.

Not that Seamus could blame him. Not only had Dean apparently spent an entire five weeks alone with Harry — so far he’d been incredibly close-mouthed about what, exactly, the two of them had been doing, too — but after the others had pointed it out, Seamus couldn’t _stop_ noticing just how many Gryffindor students from all years seemed to coincidentally pass their compartment.

It was odd, to say the least, to be at the center of this much attention without simultaneously ducking dark glares and hexes. Not a bad odd, necessarily. Just— odd.

 _I suppose I could get used to this_ , Seamus mused as he stared down the third second year to pass by in as many minutes. _At least for once it’s a change in the right direction_.

Maybe once things settled down Seamus could even make a few friends outside their group. He’d liked that about Hogwarts initially. Sure, they were kept pretty busy, but there was still plenty of time to hang out with other students, particularly in the summer when you could spend time in the courtyard or the castle grounds. Then things had taken a turn for the worse in Gryffindor and Seamus had been too busy staying alive and keeping himself and his friends safe and unharmed to keep in touch with anyone else. He’d barely had time to _sleep_.

But perhaps now he’d find the time to reach out again. Hanging out with Padma and Anthony had been pretty cool and Nott had a wicked sense of humor — for a Slytherin. There was their own house, too, of course, but frankly Seamus wouldn’t trust any of the older years enough to turn his back on them long enough to fart in their direction. And the firsties were _tiny_.

Oh well, he’d see. One way or another, things would work out. They had so far. How many other kids his age could say that they’d been part of a revolution? Bested students three or more years their senior? Foiled a certain forcefully-retired Dark Lord’s plans in their free time?

[It took a lot of pain and effort and endless nights full of tears and nightmares, but Seamus refused to remember that part. Refused to think about how small and lifeless Harry had looked when they levitated him out through the trap door. About the endless array of cuts and bruises he’d collected over the years because he had the audacity to befriend a kid a head smaller than everyone else in their year that possessed the self-preservation instincts of a drunk skunk. About the way Ginny Weasley’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking every time she was forced to touch a quill until Hermione asked her parents to owl her a handful of biros.

Those weren’t the things Seamus wanted to remember. Because they were done and over. Because it had all been worth it in the end. ~~Because even now, basking in the safety of his friends’ warmth and laughter, it still _hurt_~~.]

Sure, they had the entire summer holidays to come to terms with everything that happened in their second year — from the bloody _basilisk_ haunting Hogwarts’ hallways to the cold war between Wanya and Harry and its ugly, inevitable escalation. But this — watching the other Gryffindors observe them, wary and curious and unfamiliar in ways people they had all shared a house with for two consecutive years shouldn’t be — was the real consequence of their actions. Visible proof that this year would be different. For better or worse, they had fundamentally shifted the power structures within their house. That wasn’t something they could just take back now.

And alright, fine, maybe on some level Seamus had already known that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent hours contemplating and daydreaming about that terrible, bloody night in which they had gone from tarnished social outcasts to the very top of the Gryffindor hierarchy. But now that they were back — now that he saw the way Hermione’s hands clenched around the corners of her book until the material creaked and wrinkled under the pressure, noticed how every motion outside the door had Dean reflexively reach for his wand — Seamus wasn’t sure they could handle this.

[Out of all of them, he would have expected Dean to deal with it the best. The guy was cool as a cucumber most days, and almost impossible to get a rise out of as long as you didn’t actively harm his friends. That was also why Dean got along with anyone. It didn’t matter what insults the Slytherins threw at him or how often Justin Finch-Fletchleylooked down his nose at him, by the time Seamus was already exploding things in a rage, Dean hadn’t even realized he’d been insulted yet. Not because he was stupid — no one who had listened to Hermione and Dean discussing the possibilities of parallel universes could think either of them was dumb — but because he genuinely couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck. Until, like a switch that had been flipped, he suddenly did. And Merlin help you if you stood in his way when that happened — Dean certainly wouldn’t.

Clearly, that changed. Seamus had never seen his friend so high-strung. He’d withhold judgement until he’d heard the full story though. For now, all Dean had been willing to tell him was that Harry had gotten into a fight with his relatives, called Dean and somehow that had led to the two spending the rest of the summer on the run from the Ministry, a maniacal Azkaban escapee and Dean’s worried-slash-enraged mother. Out of the three, it was his mother who had finally caught up with them a few hours before the train left. She’d spent the rest of her time giving Dean a thorough tongue-lashing and threatening to withdraw him from Hogwarts if he ever dared to do something so stupid ever again.

Dean didn’t look particularly bothered about that part, so Seamus assumed it was an empty threat.

What _was_ interesting was the fact that Hermione had apparently been under the impression that Harry had gone camping with the Thomas family. At least Seamus had known something was up when he’d received a postcard featuring the Tower of London with a stamp from Amsterdam. Not that he was stupid enough to say that in front of Hermione.

It was a good thing Harry hasn’t shown himself yet — he was in for one hell of a lecture, if Hermione hadn’t exhausted herself scolding Dean by then.]

But even if you forgot about Hermione and Dean, who were arguably the ones most equipped to deal with their sudden increase in popularity among the students, there was still Neville who would fold under the pressure like a twig under Hagrid’s feed. Seamus winced just thinking about it.

[ _Of course a green twig would bend, not break_ , Neville’s soft voice piped up in the back of his head — and perhaps that made the comparison more accurate indeed. Seamus and Ron had invested a lot of time into coaxing their insecure friend out of his shell. With mixed results.]

Which reminded him—

"Where are Neville and Ron? And Harry for that matter?"

Dean shrugged, remarkably relaxed under Hermione’s furious glare. "Ron will be with the other Weasleys, I imagine. If Ginny’s state at the end of last term was any indication, I doubt any of them are gonna leave her alone for long. Matter of fact, I’d be surprised if she doesn’t show up before any of them, annoyed by their hovering probably. And Neville either got lost or dragged into babysitting duty."

"Maybe we should go looking for him." Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, like she always did when she felt unsure. "We’ve been traveling for a few hours already, he should’ve found us by now."

"Do what you want." Dean shrugged again. "I’m not moving."

Which earned him another glare.

"Parvati, Padma and Lavender are playing catch up with the Ravenclaw girls — although the promised they’d stop by after lunch — and I haven’t seen Lily yet," Hermione continued as though she was mentally ticking off a list of their year mates. Knowing Hermione, she probably was.

"And Harry?"

"He’s sleeping," Dean repeated before Hermione had even opened her mouth.

Which wasn’t an actual answer, but would apparently have to do. Especially when Hermione took that has her cue to pull a couple of equally thick books from her deceptively small-looking schoolbag and dropped one of them — _A Brief Summary of the Most Groundbreaking Spell Advancements in the Nineteenth Century_ — in Seamus’ lap.

"Time to put your money were your mouth is." She handed Dean _Black, White and Grey: The Legalities of Magic in Modern Magical Britain_. "We’ll need to be on the top of our game this year, so unless you have something more productive to do, I suggest you start studying."

The way she stressed the words 'more productive' made it very clear that short of fighting off a group of rouge Death Eaters, they would not be excused from learning the required — and definitely non-standard curriculum — material. And maybe not even then. This was Hermione after all.

With a sigh and a commiserating glance to Dean, Seamus cracked the book open. They hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet, but in some ways, it was as though they had never left. And hey, maybe that wasn’t even a bad thing.

Naturally the peace didn’t last long.

*

Parvati did indeed stop by after lunch though she was alone. Padma and Lavender had apparently gotten distracted by a discussion of the proper applications of various waxing and household charms — the kind the developers definitely _hadn’t_ intended — led by a couple of Ravenclaw forth years. Judging by what Parvati mentioned, Seamus decided that maybe staying on Lavender’s good side would be a wise decision after all. No more flicking ash from his many charms accidents onto her pristine robes, lest she saw the need to retaliate.

Neville, too, joined them half-way through Parvati’s recollection of her family visit in India.

[Kickstarted by Hermione’s awed "Oh, I wish I could have come with you! The bazars are supposed to be some of the most diverse markets in the entire world!", the discussion had rapidly been derailed by Dean’s curious "Do they have any snake charmers there? What kind of snakes do they control? Are they poisonous? Do you think being a Parseltongue would get you the permission to own one of them?".

Seamus snuck a suspicious glance at his friend. Dean was many things, being curious not usually among them. If anything, he was downright apathetic. His sudden interest was odd at best — and would undoubtedly lead to a very unconventional Christmas gift for Harry.]

He looked out of breath but otherwise fine, which was just as well. Hermione had been planning a rescue attempt — be it from annoying Slytherins or the Arthur Knights’ on a warpath — the moment Harry joined them. And considering Dean’s categorial refusal, Seamus had a feeling he would’ve gotten dragged into that mess.

Not that he wouldn’t give Neville a hand if he needed it. What some people [i.e. Hermione] failed to grasp was that Neville didn’t usually need a hand any more than the rest of them did. He stuttered and stumbled and trembled so much, you almost didn’t notice that he never gave an inch.

To Dean’s visible satisfaction, Neville wasn’t alone either: Ginny Weasley accompanied him into the compartment. She looked as thin and pale as the last time Seamus had seen her — wild red hair and feverish blue eyes the only specks of color in her ghostly appearance — but she did seem calmer. Steadier than the aftermath of the Chamber Catastrophe had left her at least, so that was something.

Distance and the safety of her family seemed to have done a lot to rebuild the girl’s spirit. Seamus hoped it would last beyond their arrival at the castle. And Harry’s long-overdue appearance, for that matter.

[He would be worried, but. Dean. Dean knew exactly where Harry was and he clearly wasn’t bothered, so Seamus tabled his many questions. For the time being.]

"How are you doing?" Parvati asked the younger girl immediately.

"Neville! Where have you been?" Hermione demanded at the same time.

Dean rolled his eyes as Neville launched into an explanation involving Trevor’s most recent escape attempt, a surprisingly helpful Fifth Year Slytherin and getting dragged into an involuntary game of Hide and Seek between the Weasley family by Ginny.

Seamus elbowed him in the side until he scooted over, grabbed Neville’s hand and pulled the boy onto the seat to his left, shamelessly leaving Ginny to the tender mercies of a concerned Parvati. The poor guy already had to face Hermione at her second-most inquisitive, there was no reason to make him stand through the questioning. Besides. Bracketed in on both sides by friends he’d grown used to sharing a living space with in the past two years, Seamus breathed easy for the first time in three months.

It wasn’t perfect — never had been — but. Merlin, it was good to be home.

*

"Well then, I suppose I should get going." Parvati reluctantly stood from where she’d been sitting next to Ginny, showing her the proper wave-slash-jap to get her hair curled just right. "I have to rescue Padma from Lav’s enthusiasm if nothing else."

She exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Hermione and waved at the rest of them. Right as she reached for the compartment door, the train started to slow down rather abruptly.

"We can’t be at Hogsmeade already, it’s not even five!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Guys," Neville piped up from Seamus’ left. "When did it get so dark?"

Which was how Seamus found himself standing in the middle of the compartment, gently pushing Parvati back towards her seat. He didn’t remember when he’d pulled his wand, but he wasn’t the only one holding it. The lights above his head flickered weakly, prompting a chorus of "Lumos!" — and really, that wasn’t right. It was too dark and the lights weren’t supposed to fail. No way any of this was natural.

Plus, there still hadn’t been an announcement. Really, what the ever loving fuck was going on?

"Did anyone see a prefect?" Seamus asked, mostly to distract himself from his rising worry.

To his surprise, it was Ginny who answered, not just with a head shake but with actual words. "It’s odd. Percy was complaining about missing his shift if they didn’t hurry up. Apparently, they’ve increased prefect duties this year." She rolled her eyes. "Of course that just convinced Percy that his position is so fundamentally important because the professors are relying on them to take their duties seriously or some such rot."

It was the longest, most normal sentence Seamus had heard the girl say. In that moment, she could’ve been just another one of the girls, just another younger sibling complaining about their older brothers. And even though she was trembling, she held her wand tightly at ready in front of her, gaze fixed on the door.

Hermione scrambled to put her books away and out of range. Dean had placed himself on top of his seat by the window, feet shoulder-length apart, face set with grim determination. It was a good choice, Seamus acknowledged absently. The compartment really didn’t have enough room for all six of them to stand and still be able to move.

[They’d learned that lesson the hard way on their way back to Hogwarts after Christmas break. Granted, they’d barely known how to cast a bloody levitation charm at that point. It was unlikely they could’ve won that confrontation. But being knocked into each other, getting dragged down by their friends, leaving no room to duck and avoid being hit—

They’d never told Harry and Ron about that incident. There’d been no reason to. No permanent damage, nothing to be done about. But they hadn’t forgotten either. And they sure as the seven Circles of Hell hadn’t forgiven.]

"Should we— Should we call for help? Or go find a perfect?" Parvati asked with the tone of someone who already knew the answer but felt obligated to ask anyways.

Seamus took a deep breath to swallow his first, reflexive _Who would we call for?_

"We shouldn’t split up."

"Hermione is right. We don’t know what’s going on." Fuck, Seamus wished Harry were here right now. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to keep everyone calm and — more importantly — alive. "We’ll stay. For now."

"And hex anyone who comes through that door," Dean added, ice coating his words. And the windows. Although that second development probably wasn’t Dean’s fault.

He’s never struck Seamus as particularly cold — body-temperature-wise — and he would have noticed. Seamus _hated_ being cold. Cold like he was right now, if his shaking hands were any indication. Though it was hard to tell if those shivers were caused by the unnatural temperature drop — that had Hermione muttering every tidbit she knew about freezing curses under her breath — or by sheer nerves.

Really, where were those supremely biased prefects when you needed them? And had they relocked the door after Neville and Ginny joined them?

Just as Seamus opened his mouth to ask, the door slowly opened. Rendering the question moot and revealing what was in all likelihood the most terrifying creature he had ever seen. The _thing_ was tall, at least a head taller than Seamus. A tattered robe covered its entire, vaguely human-shaped body — safe for one skeletal thin hand that held the door open. Its long fingers curved around the door handle, more claw than human, and even though a black hood covered its face in shadows that were much, much darker than black, Seamus felt the weight of its gaze on him. So heavy, so cold, he barely felt the pain of being stripped bare, layer for layer.

 _That’s one hell of a Halloween costume_ , Seamus thought absently, with whatever minuscule part of his mind that was so far removed from the horror of this situation as to still be capable of forming thoughts.

The creature’s head moved and if it spoke, Seamus missed it entirely. He was too busy staring at the shadows he could swear were swirling and pulsing underneath that hood. To occupied with with the faint screams ringing in his ear, haunting his nightmares.

_-mus! Help! Open the door, please! Seamus! Open the door now!_

Somewhere behind Seamus, someone whimpered. The creature took a step forward. It didn’t occur Seamus to back away, even as he felt its rattling, freezing breath on his skin.

He couldn’t. He was the last one left. If he’d made it to this point, the others had already failed. He couldn’t waste time on whether they were alive, could only tighten his grip around the wand in his hand. It was down to him but it wasn’t supposed to be, had never supposed to be him—

" _Where were you?!_ " he whispered, said, screamed. Knew he was shouting the words at the top of his lung, even though he barely felt them. McGonagall’s face twisted, displeasure at the well-earned disrespect, but if she reprimanded him or took points, Seamus didn’t notice. He didn’t notice Dumbledore’s reaction either, not even his unusually muted robes. All he saw, all he ever sees, was Harry, face drawn and lifeless, body slack in the air and he can’t be dead, he can’t be dead, **_he can’t be dead_** —

*

Warm hands on his cheeks were the first thing Seamus became aware of. An achingly familiar voice softly saying his name was the second. _Harry_.

Seamus jerked. There was no conscious thought that followed this groundbreaking realization. Only the bone-deep need to see Harry, alive and well — and very, very pale. Seamus blinked multiple times in rapid succession, gaze locked on Harry’s tense expression. He was kneeling above him, green eyes focused on Seamus. The relief that flashed across Harry’s face when their gazes locked felt like being wrapped into a pre-heated blanket after a two hour snowball fight. Although part of that might have also been the cloak someone had wrapped around him. And it was only now that Seamus noticed the heavy fabric that he realized just how cold he really was. It wasn’t the sort of uncomfortably cold floor in the early winter mornings either. This cold went deeper. Had carved itself a path underneath Seamus’ skin, so deep into his very being that for one endless moment he thought he would never be able to get rid of it ever again.

Then Harry’s hands were in his and his very soft " _Seamus_ " caught the attention of everyone else in the compartment. A moment later, Seamus was pulled into a rip-cracking hug curtesy of Hermione Granger, while Dean grabbed his flailing hand in a vice-like grip and didn’t let go even after Hermione reluctantly took a step back. A small step. Just enough space to squeeze into the space between Seamus and the wall, really.

Neville, waxy pale but smiling, no matter how weak, handed him a chocolate frog, its head already torn off. Grateful for his friend’s foresight — his numb fingers wouldn’t have been able to keep hold of the wiggling sweet if his life depended on it — Seamus swallowed the frog whole the moment the words "It’ll help with the aftereffects," registered.

He was nibbling on his fourth frog by the time Seamus felt human and aware enough to participatein the buzzing conversation around him.

"What the fuck was that?!" he croaked and promptly flinched at the sound of his own voice. Dean and Hermione seemed to be of one mind because both held him even closer.

"Dementors." Seamus hadn’t heard Neville sound so grim since they had discovered Hermione’s research on basilisks. It was not a tone that boded well for them. "The Ministry had dementors search the Express for Black. Seems like someone on the train knew what to do at least, some bright light drove it away."

"We weren’t warned so nothing could tip off Black," Hermione chimed in. "I can’t believe that they let the Hogwarts’ Express leave at all if they had reason to suspect Black would board it! That’s why they didn’t increase the teacher presence either, can you believe it? Even if Black had been here, how many children would’ve gotten killed in the crossfire before the dementors would’ve subdued him? And how can they let those— those monsters near children?! Unsupervised!"

Yes, she was exactly as outraged as Seamus had come to expect from her— even if he’d never heard her sound quite so derisive when speaking about the Ministry of Magic.

"I’m sorry," Harry spoke up from where he was seated across Seamus, a still shaking Ginny pressed closely against his side. "I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have gone through that alone."

"Don’t you dare!" Hermione growled, immediately whirling around to round in on Harry — and completely ignoring the wand Ginny had pulled out of nowhere and was now pointing steadfast at her. "You listen to me, Harry Potter: This is _not your fault_. You couldn’t have known the ministry is comprised of negligent morons who wouldn’t be able to recognize child endangerment if it hit them over the head. And even if you had been here, what could you have done? I don’t think Hogwarts has prepared you to wrestle a dementor any more than the rest of us."

"While we’re on the subject, where were you?" Seamus couldn’t help but ask. He’d been wondering about that since he got on the train to find Hermione and Dean and no Harry.

To his surprise, Harry _flushed_.

"I was sleeping." Harry shrugged, mumbled something else that was completely inaudible and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Okay? Where?"

"Uhm… Up there actually." Harry gestured vaguely into the direction of— the luggage net above their heads. "Under my cloak."

Seamus gaped. So did Ginny, Hermione, Neville and Parvati, thank Merlin. Otherwise that would’ve been embarrassing.

"You slept in the luggage net," Hermione said slowly.

"Possibly?"

"You— You—"

"You’ve done it now, Harry." Parvati smirked. "You’ve left _Hermione_ speechless."

"He does that a lot." Neville shrugged.

"Huh. I need to hang out more with you guys. Seems like I’m missing all the good stuff."

Seamus, meanwhile, was still stuck on the fact that Harry had been sleeping curled up in the luggage net this whole time. Granted, it wasn’t the weirdest place he’d caught Harry falling asleep in — every one of their closets, the tiny space between Dean’s bedside table and the far wall of the room and their laundry basket came to mind — but still.

It did of course explain much of Dean’s behavior. From his lack of concern over Harry’s whereabouts to his refusal to leave the apartment right up to the way he’d stood on the seat right beneath the luggage instead of at the forefront of the compartment. Wait a minute.

"Are you telling me you slept through a dementor visit?" Seamus asked, not so much accusing as incredulous.

If anything Harry’s cheeks darkened further.

"In my defense, Dean put up a silencing ward so I could sleep. I didn’t notice anything was wrong until he disabled it and— Hermione’s screams woke me up. That’s when I saw you and Ginny and the dementor, but then that bright white light came and chased it away before I was even up." That last part was accompanied by a haunted look that Seamus never wanted to see on his friend’s face ever again.

"Which caused Hermione to scream even louder because Harry just appeared midair," Parvati added drily.

"Oh, like that stunt didn’t scare four years off you too." Hermione crossed her arms.

"Well, at least one of us had an uneventful trip," Seamus said and didn’t mean to make the words come out as sharp as they did.

Harry winced, Ginny glared and Seamus reached out to squeeze Harry’s arm in a silent _I’m not angry at you_. It wasn’t a lie, not really. But the more the cold receded, the more feelings returned into his fingertips and toes, the more the nebulous fog lifted from his mind, carried away by the banter with his friends and their closeness and their warm, comforting touches, the more Seamus realized he _was_ angry. Not at Harry, not at anyone in particular. Just _angry_.

It was easier to be angry than to be cold.

*

The headmaster’s announcement at that night’s welcome meal was exactly Seamus had expected it to be: a complete and utter letdown. Not only had the Ministry in all its wisdom decided to search the train and the professors had done nothing to warn the students or at least add security measures, no. They had also stationed dementors at Hogwarts.

Seamus listened with half an ear and a stony expression that kept even Hermione from addressing him — not that she would’ve interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore’s speech, even if she was scowling something fierce — but most of his attention was on the image of Harry’s lifeless body. The way his skin had been cold to touch, fingers slack and unresponsive in Seamus’ own. Not waking. The cloth under Seamus’ fingers as he shook his shoulders desperately, no resistance at all, _not waking_.

Those memories may have been haunting Seamus for over a year, but they hadn’t felt this real in a long time. Gripping the cup of hot chocolate the house elves had served with the usual spread for dinner, Seamus tried hard to get a hold of his temper.

Easier said than done.

Dumbledore listed the many precautions students were to take with the foul creatures around — which was to say a ridiculously short list largely comprised of the life-changing "Don’t get yourself killed or de-souled" advice, _thanks for_ ** _nothing_** — causing Seamus to grit his teeth and take an other sip of the delicious beverage. It didn’t help.

His magic, fueled by the warring emotions inside him, the sensation of being scraped raw and left abandoned in the darkness, his pure, undiluted _rage_ , was writhing underneath his skin. Lit a fire inside his very soul. Flames, hot and insatiable, licked their way inside through whatever walls Seamus had left to finally, finally burn out the last of the cold the dementors had clawed into him. It _hurt_ , but this was a pain Seamus welcomed. Sparks raced along Seamus’ arms and fingertips, raised the hair on the back of his neck. So gentle. So greedy.

The flames dropped from his hands onto the table like a particularly thick liquid and set the closest napkin on fire. A flick of Ron’s wand dosed the flames before the students around them had the chance to do more than gasp in surprise, though Walters on the other end of the table was eyeing them warily.

Seamus forced himself to take a deep breath and push his rage down again, force it into calming, complying, resting. _Now isn’t the time_.

Harry wouldn’t want the drama, didn’t need another reason to feel guilty for things beyond his control after today’s fiasco, and that made it easier to soothe the burning fury. Besides there would be a time for explosions, later. There always was.

For now, Seamus settled for tracing the surface of the table where the flames had touched the polished wood, left nothing wet ashes and barely charred wood behind. He could still feel it — the _heat_ , lingering just as much as the bone-rattling cold back in their compartment had, long after the dementor had been driven away. It was like his Ma liked to say, _the wood remembers_.

A gentle touch on his forearm — warm, oh so gloriously warm — broke him out of his reverie. Neville’s expression was kind, almost painfully so, and Seamus was hit with the sudden realization that unlike him, Neville had more than just the horrors of Hogwarts to remember.

He didn’t ask if Neville was alright — it wasn’t like they both didn’t know better — but he did push the bowl of caramel cream towards him. Neville nodded once, a cutting motion in answer to a question neither of them dared to ask, and even though nothing had changed, Seamus felt some of the pressure on his chest ease.

With a grateful smile towards Neville, Seamus squared his shoulders and turned back towards the head table, where Dumbledore was still talking. The resentment was still there, buried so deep in his mind, few could ever hope to reach it, but for now Seamus could pretend it wasn’t. Could pretend everything was alright. That he and his friends hadn’t been at risk of losing their souls today. That the Ministry, the Headmaster, the teachers, the other students didn’t turn a blind eye on what was at the very least an act of gross negligence. That they hadn’t learned anything from it.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , Seamus reminded himself. _We’ve always been on our own_. _We’ll survive this like we’ve survived everything else_. 

No one had ever stood up for them, defended them. No one had ever been on their side. They shouldn’t have expected this year to be different. Their position within Gryffindor might have changed, but Hogwarts? Hogwarts was still the same school — and the people residing within her walls hadn’t changed at all.

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he repeated firmly in the privacy of his own mind as he watched the visible displeasure on Professor Sprout’s face, the furious furrow of Professor McGonagall’s brow, the lack of Professor Flitwick’s cheer. None of them spoke up. None of them argued. They didn’t like it, they knew it was idiotic, and they still _let it happen_. _It doesn’t matter_ for every whisper and mocking comment, every judging look, every superior sneer thrown his way for a perceived weakness none of these children couldn’t possibly understand.

Face frozen in a shadow of a pleasant smile, Seamus rested his elbow on the table as he surveyed the hall. He watched Malfoy’s jibes from the Slytherin table, Terry Boot’s narrow-eyed gaze, Snape’s never-changing smirk, Parvati’s trembling hands, Dumbledore’s false sympathy, Ginny’s white knuckles.

He watched and somewhere deep inside him, where the cold had been brutally welded out of his core by _desperationfearfury_ ** _hatred_** _—_ Seamus _burned_.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to keep in mind:  
> \- This is a WIP and I'm not promising regular updates. Please be aware of that if you decide to give this fic a chance.  
> \- This installment is structured very differently from the last because I thought it would be fun and wanted to try it. So you get essentially three short stories, all covering the events of Year 3 in this 'verse, all told in three parts. With Seamus 1 already posted, the next chapter will be Dean 1, followed by Ron 1, then Seamus 2 etc. [And don't worry, just because isn't a narrator in this doesn't mean he isn't at the centre of most of the action - admittedly less so in Seamus' parts for reasons.]  
> \- The last story stayed very, very close to canon. This fic **will not**. You may have already noticed the massive divergences in this first part [Harry and Dementors, anyone?], but I figure it doesn't hurt to mention it again. These divergences are on purpose. Large and small, they are the consequences of a very different set of Gryffindor third years in a very different Hogwarts' dynamic. The consequences will only spread from here. If you're doubtful, I'd ask you to give it a shot, but if you don't like canon divergence, this fic definitely isn't for you.  
> \- Also because a lot of you asked me about all the other Gryffindors (the Weasleys especially) in the last fic, I'm considering writing a few short drabbles with outside POVs on our MCs. Would you be interested in that or prefer not knowing until things are revealed in the main story line?
> 
> All my rambling aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think of Seamus, the changes that have already been caused and anything else you noticed about this chapter that you'd like to talk about!!


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